


the most wonderful time of the year

by snowandfire



Series: zuko teaches kindergarten [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Gen, Holidays, M/M, Musicals, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 12:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25969306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowandfire/pseuds/snowandfire
Summary: aang needs zuko's help organizing the school's christmas musicalyeah, it's a holiday ficaka: the kindergarten teacher zuko christmas special
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Jet/Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Smellerbee & Zuko, The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: zuko teaches kindergarten [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860832
Comments: 34
Kudos: 378





	the most wonderful time of the year

**Author's Note:**

> full names: zuko sugita (teaches kindergarten), jet freeman (k-3 art)

It’s not that Zuko _didn’t have_ good memories of the winter holidays. He did. Just not that many. Because the holidays were a time for family, his father tended to be there. And that was usually not a good thing. To say the least. For...for a lot of reasons. 

For one thing Zuko’s holiday lists were never good enough. Azula always asked for big and flashy things, and some things that were too much for Zuko to even comprehend. He remembers clearly the year she had asked for ‘a real rocket launcher’, ‘a laser gun’, and ‘a copy of _How to Win Friends and Influence People’._ She was seven. 

That year Zuko had asked for a remote controlled fire-truck, and maybe a hose, so he could pretend to be a fireman. But he had been yelled at for that, because asking for a hose was just a step away from asking to grow up and be something like a gardener. When he had said ‘what’s wrong with being a gardener’, he had gotten ‘the look’ and his father’s eyes had gotten all big. The look was scathing, and bitter, like Zuko was something disgusting that had been caught on his shoe. It wasn’t the first time. But it was the first signal that he was about to yell. Zuko had shut up real fast. That wasn’t a great year. 

Leading up to the holiday season, Azula always joked with him about the bad things she had seen him do all year. Like steal cookies from the cookie jar or lie to dad about his grades. She made sure to mention how that would definitely mean he was getting a lump of coal in his stocking. Well, she had done that until she was six and he was eight. That year, her sixth Christmas, she had told Zuko that Santa Claus was not real. Dad would pick what he got, if he got anything at all. If he _deserved_ anything at all. That he never should have believed in it anyway, since they were Japanese and proud of it, and it was a stupid American tradition for babies that didn’t know any better.

She had also said that the guy that Zuko had believed to be Santa Claus all these years, the one who visited the house on Christmas Eve, was simply Uncle Iroh in a costume and a beard. Zuko had cried. Ozai had confirmed it, not bothering to look up from his newspaper before telling Zuko and his wet face to get out of his sight. That wasn’t a great year either. 

Truth be told the only good thing about the holidays was that on Christmas Day they would go to his grandfather’s house. It was a solid half hour drive from Boston to Concord. Uncle and Lu Ten would be there. The food would be good. He could sit between either his mom and Lu Ten. Or between his Uncle and his mom. Or between his uncle and Lu Ten. Sure, his grandfather would make comments about his lack of height (he’d always been sort of on the short side back then), or how messily he ate, but it was peanuts compared to father’s usual shtick. He barely noticed the jibes at all. 

After dinner Azula would usually show off, either via reciting poems or by doing tricks of mental math that were very advanced for her age. But that meant that he and Lu Ten could go around exploring the house together. It had been built in 1804, it had a rickety attic, and a real secret passageway that used to be a ‘servant’s passage’ apparently. Lu Ten was older so he got to pretend to be a sea captain or a hero. Zuko could be a second mate or a sidekick. They could play pretend in the spare room and then climb up into the attic. 

Zuko remembers the attic. It was dark and there wasn’t much ceiling height to speak of. It was perfect for telling stories. A tiny window overlooked the garden and at that time of year it was usually snowing. He could watch the snowflakes fall from above and land on his grandfather’s Japanese garden. Listen to the stories. His cousin knew great stories. Just like Uncle. Those were the good days. 

He liked New Year’s Eve too. Mostly because he and his mom were the only two people in the family who really cared about staying up. They would wait up until the very end, and count down together until the ball dropped. Zuko’s eyes were usually half-lidded by then and he was more than ready for sleep. _Happy New Year, Zuko_. He remembers her voice, soft and kind. A whisper. A promise. It was the best way to start the year, with just her by his side. She was the first person he would see when the year began and the last one he would see when it ended. Until of course the year that he welcomed with her and ended alone. Until then, that day was perfect. 

So it’s bittersweet when the weather starts to change down near Middlefield West Elementary. Because yeah, the kids look genuinely adorable, in green sweaters with white snowflakes. Red sweaters with pink pom poms hanging off. Basically the kind of clothes that kids only wear when their parents are dressing them. Matching hats to coats to lunchboxes. The kinds of accessories that will likely be too small within a year or two: snow boots, earmuffs, and mittens. 

There are the kids that can’t afford all of these things and all of the matching, but there’s a different kind of sweetness to _their_ put-together outfits. Zuko’s been teaching for four years. He notices hand-me downs on a kid who’s brother or sister he had in his first year of teaching. He notices the snug fit of winter clothes that have been out of style for maybe a matter of years, or a generation. Coats and scarves that have been patched and sewed back together but look warm and cozy nevertheless. It’s all a part of the season. It makes him feel good inside. Calm and quiet like the soft winter breeze. Like the touch of a snowflake on a person’s cheek. 

It isn’t that simple though. Because when he starts to see the kids’ school clothes change. Starts to see the snow linger on the ground. Starts to feel the chill in the air. He can’t help but remember holidays spent with his father too. It’s always been like that with him. Having to take the good with the bad. The scarred with the unscarred parts of life. That’s just how it is. 

* * *

Right now it’s the end of November. They’re already a few weeks into it. The ‘holiday season’ that is. 

Zuko spent Thanksgiving at Uncle’s place. As usual. He was a bit grumpy and a little disagreeable the first year they did that, but since then it’s become a time honored tradition. 

Uncle insists on celebrating the ‘traditional’ way. Which means no Japanese dishes or comfort food. But instead entails an entire afternoon and evening spent in Iroh’s small galley kitchen trying to cook a whole turkey, mashed potatoes, and an apple pie. All for just them two. They eat together around a small circular table, then head to the living room to watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade (not Zuko’s choice of program, obviously). The leftovers typically last for a whole week. 

“It’s _wasteful_.” Zuko usually says. 

“It’s _delicious_.” Iroh always replies. 

It’s always been like that with them. 

Zuko has just let out his last class of the day and is thinking of those leftovers now. He’s considering whether it’s really healthy to have turkey, mashed potatoes and apple pie for four days in a row. He’s also considering whether he gives a shit about being healthy or not. Then tries to kill that angsty, out-of-place thought. That’s when Aang accosts him. 

Zuko’s in the hallway, which when the kids are gone, really freaking _should_ be a safe space for introspection, when it happens. 

“Zuko, I need you to organize a musical with me!” Aang bursts in on the scene, and claps a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. 

“What?!” Zuko turns around, and suppresses the natural urge to glare, “...What are you talking about?” 

“Okay okay. So you know how we do a Christmas musical every year. Usually Ty Lee helps me out. But this year she’s on maternity leave, so I really need an extra hand.” Aang explains. 

“So...you thought of _me_?” 

“Well yeah, you’re great with the kids.” 

_We’re all teachers. I think that should be a given._

“I don’t, you know, sing.” Zuko explains. 

(This is not exactly true, he can and he would. He does when it's just his little class. But father never liked singing, so he never really has in front of people. Plus it’s way too late to get into that sort of thing now, right? He’s twenty-six. Jeez.)

“I’ve been teaching them lots of songs all year. All you have to do is help me pick the numbers, the set design. The play for the third graders. We have to write the script. Make costumes--”

“Look, Aang. It's nice that you thought of me but--” Zuko starts to say something, then sees the look in Aang’s eyes.

It should be impossible for an adult to do this. His eyes are shining. He’s beaming at Zuko, and his energy is _doing things_ to Zuko. _Come on. Summon the strength. Shoot. Him. Down._

“Please?” the corners of Aang’s mouth turn up into a smile. 

He’s taller than Zuko, by a good few inches. But there’s still something so young about him. Pure and untouched like white snow right before the kids stomp around in it and grind it down into grey mush. There’s something about him that draws out Zuko’s urge to please. He wants Aang to like him. He wants Aang to approve of him. _Stop that._

“I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it,” Zuko scratches the back of his head with his left hand. 

Aang beams, “Just let me know by the end of the day tomorrow. If the answer’s yes we can head straight to mine for some planning.” 

_That guy is something else._

* * *

He’s walking back to his classroom later that same day when he’s accosted by someone definitely less pleasant than Aang. 

Also unlike Aang, this person does nothing to announce their presence, and simply bumps into him. 

“Do you have to do that?” Zuko asks, “I know Smellerbee’s off this week but is she really your only impulse control?!” 

“Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed again, Sugita?” 

_Yeah, I’d bet you’d like to know about me in bed. Wait what?_

“I sleep fine.” Zuko answers. 

Jet smirks, “Sure you do, Sugita. Sure you do. By the way, it’s okay if you don’t do the musical with Aang. I figured you’d be too chicken, knowing that I’m a part of it too.” 

_You’re what now???? Why?!_ Panic sets in immediately. Anger too. Also the familiar urge to want to just reach out and kiss--no, that’s not right, punch Jet in the face. _Why do you insert yourself into everything? Can’t we ever have a narrative where you’re not around?_

Jet does that thing where he reads his mind, he even has a paintbrush in his hand, and can wave it about for demonstrative effect, “Art teacher, remember?” 

_Of course. Of. Freaking. Course._

“I’m not _not_ doing the musical because of you, Freeman.” 

“Uh-huh, just keep telling yourself that Sugita. Just keep telling yourself that.” 

Okay, well now he _has_ to do the damn musical. He can’t afford to give Jet the satisfaction. 

“I’ll see you at rehearsal,” Zuko says, and if he enjoys lightly shoving Jet to the side and watching his brushes go everywhere, well, it’s a happy accident. 

* * *

It’s only after school the next day that Zuko starts to comprehend what he’s agreed to. Uncle did always say he never thinks things through. At least Aang is happy with his decision though. That’s...something. 

“I promise,” Aang looks like Zuko’s just agreed to give him a kidney, “You won’t regret this.”

Zuko is regretting this already. 

He also realizes that in the past four years of teaching across the hall from Aang he’s actually never been invited over. Nor has he had a conversation longer than a few minutes with the guy. Clearly that’s gonna change. By Aang’s sheer force of will apparently.

“Do you, how many of these have you done?” Zuko asks, trying to be sociable, as he slides into the passenger’s side of Aang’s car. 

“Three. I took over from Jeong Jeong right before he retired.” Aang explains. 

Aang hands the aux cord over to Zuko, “We might hit some traffic, you can put on whatever you want.” 

Zuko has never been handed the aux cord before in his life. Not by Mai, who had a very set aesthetic of music she liked to listen to while driving. Not by Iroh, who preferred light classical or just quiet in the car so they could chat. Sure, he gives himself the aux cord when he drives around in his van, alone. But that’s not the same. Not really. The responsibility is suddenly a little overwhelming. 

They’re still in the parking lot. Barely a few feet away from the school. Where he is a _teacher_ . And Zuko is already freaking out. If he doesn’t pick a song in the next few seconds, Aang is going to think he’s some sort of weirdo. Or maybe one of those people that doesn’t listen to music at all. Which means he should definitely be disqualified from helping organize a children’s musical event. _Fuck_. 

He plugs in his own phone, scrolls through his music, and selects _Hey Jude_ by the Beatles. It’s the safest thing he can possibly pick. A classic. He sighs with relief after he presses play. 

“Hey good choice, I love this song,” Aang says as he shifts into reverse, and turns his head to look behind him. 

_Thank god. Oh thank god._

As it turns out though, the song didn’t really matter. Because Aang basically talks over it the entire time. 

“So where did you go to school? Around here?” 

Zuko misunderstands this question, “I didn’t go to this elementary school, no.” 

“I meant what college did you go to, for teaching,” Aang clarifies. 

_I’m an idiot._

“Miami University,” Zuko says, and states the prepared clarification even before it’s needed, “The one in Ohio, not in Florida.” 

“I know that one, it’s a great teaching school.”

“Thank you.” Zuko doesn’t really know how to respond to that. 

“You’re welcome.”

"Last year we did _The Grinch who Stole Christmas_ . The year before that we did _The Nutcracker_ . And the year before that we did _A Christmas Carol_.” 

Zuko remembers that vaguely; he had attended them. 

“So this year we gotta go back to the basics. Something classic. Something that’ll blow their socks off.” Aang makes this sound like he’s directing a musical on Broadway.

Maybe someone should tell him his cast members are a group of eight-year olds. But it’s not going to be Zuko. 

“Fine,” Zuko agrees, “Something classic.” 

The rest of the drive goes by without a hitch. When they pull into Aang’s driveway though, Zuko rather anxiously realizes he’s never been here before. He’s never met Aang’s wife Katara, he thinks her name is? Or his kid, he definitely has a kid. A baby actually. _Chill out. Be normal. You can do that. Easy._

He follows Aang inside through the garage door, into a warm well-lit kitchen. The walls are covered with photographs of different parts of the world. Aang is in some of them. But a lot of them are of animals. Almost immediately, a large fuzzy creature comes barreling into him and nearly bowls him over. 

“Oh, that’s our dog Appa, here boy, _yip yip_.” Aang scratches under the giant dog’s chin. 

“Uh, yip yip?” Zuko asks, raising an eyebrow, and letting his hand rest tentatively on the dog’s head.

He gives it a pat. And then another one, getting more relaxed. 

“The lady at the shelter we got him at said that’s all he responds to, I don’t really know why? But it’s not really a problem so.” Aang focuses on the dog, and it’s almost like Zuko’s not here, “You’re a good boy aren’t you? You’re the best. Yeah you are.”

It’s then that Zuko notices the lady sitting at the table typing furiously. She’s grimacing at the laptop, and her brown hair reminds Zuko suddenly of his mother’s. 

She looks up and notices Zuko, “Are you...Zuko? Aang said he was getting some help for the musical this year.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Zuko. Helping with the musical.”

She gets up and extends her hand, her eyes are a beautiful clear blue, “I’m Katara.” 

Aang joins the awkward introduction at last, making the sappiest expression in the world at her, and then looking to Zuko, “So Mr. Zuko-helping-with-the-musical. Shall we adjourn to the upstairs study?” 

“Oh, right, I wouldn’t want to disturb,” Zuko gestures to the laptop, and to the stack of books to its left, “Whatever it is you’re doing.” 

“It’s for grad school,” Katara explains, “I’m studying for the _GRE_.” 

Zuko tries for small talk as he and Aang go up the stairs, “GRE, huh? That’s...neat.” 

“Katara’s really smart, we’ve been waiting for a good time actually. For her to go back and get her master’s. But then Bumi was born, and priorities kinda changed for a while. I’m really excited she’s getting back into the spirit of things!”

_Bumi_ . Zuko mentally repeats the name to himself: _Bumi, Bumi, Bumi._ That’s the name of their kid. 

By the time they get to the study Aang is ready to go. Clearly he has already spent a lot of time thinking about this. Both about what songs to pick for the younger kids, and what musical to pick for the older kids. 

Zuko spends the next few minutes reining in Aang’s creativity. _Elf: the Broadway Musical_ is probably too much to adapt. They’re third graders, come on. The same is true for _Miracle on 34th St._ Which, if Zuko remembers correctly, is not a musical at all. No matter what Aang says, they do not have time to compose a whole selection of original songs for this. And _The Sound of Music_ doesn’t even have a holiday theme? 

Zuko’s left with no choice. Aang needs some structure. So he comes up with a set of rules. 

[---

  1. The theme/content they adapt has to have some in-built songs
  2. It _must_ be simple enough that third graders will get it
  3. It _must_ be related to the holiday theme in some OBVIOUS way (see footnote)



I, Zuko, will determine the interpretation of OBVIOUS

\---]

With these rules in place Aang is significantly quieter. Zuko’s decently pleased with himself for having contributed. 

But the silence lasts way too long. Zuko groans. Aang sighs, and looks up at the ceiling. This is going well, really well. They’re two halves of a whole idiot. 

“Come on, the rules help, they’re giving you a direction to think in!” Zuko exclaims, “I don’t know why but I thought this process would be a lot easier.” 

“You know Zuko, we usually start our musical planning sessions with a more upbeat attitude.” 

“Come on, think.” Zuko says, “You’re the one who’s supposed to be good at this.” 

“I’m trying! I had plenty of ideas before you added your stupid rules!” 

“You’re the reason we have rules!” 

A cry erupts from the neighboring room. 

“Katara I got it!” Aang yells, then glances at Zuko, “I’ll just be a few minutes.” 

Zuko gets bothered though, just chilling in the study by himself, so he decides to go see what's happening. There's no harm in it after all. He finds Aang in the other room, holding a very small bundle in his arms, and humming.

"Oh hey Zuko," Aang whispers, "I think Bumi here was just having a little trouble sleeping."

Zuko looks at the tiny human. All swaddled up in mint green. With his own little mint green hat with a white puff on top. Trouble sleeping huh? Zuko can relate. 

"You wanna hold him?" Aang asks, perhaps he notices the staring. 

"I-yeah. Sure." Zuko answers. 

But as soon as he agrees to it, he doesn't know what to do. In his defense, kids are usually a bit older when they come around to him. They can talk and everything. Bumi on the other hand is still at that stage where his eyes and nose disappear into chubby cheeks. And his hands are all balled up into fists. 

Aang hands him over gently, and moves Zuko's hands in place, "You've gotta support the neck. See, like that." 

The baby stirs as he's passed over to Zuko. Zuko can smell that special clean soapy scent that only babies have. He's so warm. His little fists are so, so small. A feeling stirs in Zuko's heart. _Oh. This is nice._

Bumi smiles in his sleep as Zuko rocks him. 

"He likes you." Aang says cheerily. 

"He's your son. He probably likes everyone." Zuko says, and then wonders if it was the wrong thing to say. 

Aang laughs, "Yeah I guess he takes after his mom then. He definitely doesn't take to everyone right away. You should have seen when Jet was over the other day. I don't think I've ever heard him scream like that."

Zuko looks down at the baby. _Cuter than he has any right to be._ And he has good taste. 

"Why was Jet here?" Zuko asks. 

"He's helping out with the sets and stuff. Even if we don't have a theme yet. I told him he could start brainstorming the generic stuff. Like snowflakes and fir trees. We usually need those every year."

"Makes sense." Zuko looks around the little nursery, and suddenly has a burst of inspiration, "I have it." 

He's not sure what inspires him. Or how he thinks of it. It just hits him in a moment of clarity. Like a bolt of lightning. 

"Rudolph," Zuko looks at Aang triumphantly, "Let's do Rudolph and the whole reindeer thing." 

* * *

And so it begins. Aang agrees readily and eagerly. _Rudolph and the whole reindeer thing_ is quickly amended to be _Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer._ Then they’re on a roll. 

The kindergarteners, first and second graders will learn a selection of songs related to the theme (and some others they've chosen over the year). The third graders will sing too. Except a group of them--all voluntary of course--will put on a little play. The rest of the third grade will either be background chorus, or background scenery, or 'baby theatre tech' (helping out backstage and things as much as a third grader reasonably can). 

The third grade play has been the pride of Middlefield West Elementary for years. Zuko knows it. Aang knows it. All the kids look forward to their third grade year so they can try out and be part of it. This year is no different. 

_Rudolph_ quickly becomes Aang's passion project. And by consequence, Zuko's passion project. Truth be told Zuko's always been the kind of guy who does things 100% or not at all. So in fairness, he really should have seen this coming.

At the beginning of this whole thing, he barely knew Aang. Sure, they taught together. In classrooms straight across the hall. But he wouldn't exactly call them friends. Now he's with him every second. Getting things from the craft store. Writing down the song lists and their order. Drafting an abridged script for the play. They have all of a few days to get the planning part done before they have to involve the kids. And it's hectic. They go over to Aang's place the most. Zuko gets more comfortable each time. He looks forward to seeing the kid. Finding himself playing patty cake, and got your nose, even though Bumi's probably a little young for it. He tries not to tear up when the baby grabs his finger real tight, as if he would never let go. It’s nice. 

He has a better time with Aang than he would have thought too. It's been a long time since conversation just sort of flowed like that for him. Whenever he's awkward or stilted, Aang picks up the conversation back up again like it’s nothing. Aang laughs easily at his poor jokes. He seems genuinely happy that Zuko's taking part in this. He treats him less as a coworker and more like a friend with each passing day. Zuko hasn't had a friend like this in a long time. Maybe forever. 

Aang talks about his travels a lot. In the car. Or even at home really. He's been everywhere. He taught English in Vietnam for a year. He spent a summer just hiking up the Nile river. He has so many stories. Zuko likes listening to him talk. It's not quite as annoying as it was before. 

Zuko tells him about Boston a bit. When he's asked about his past. He doesn't elaborate much. So Aang doesn't push. But after a while Zuko opens up on his own. He's always been more of a sharer than people give him credit for anyway. It just depends on the room. Not about his family or his past. Just about the little things. What kind of music he likes, things like that. Aang doesn't interrupt but just listens, taking it in. Aang makes the room, the whole place, feel safe. Zuko would think it's a teacher thing, but Jet's a teacher too and around him Zuko feels...different to say the least. 

After about a week they have their first session with the kids. This first one is with the kindergartners who have a selection of three songs (simple enough). Zuko’s kindergartners are here of course, but so are two other groups. 

He hears his kids whisper when they see him, “That’s _my_ teacher!” 

He puts a finger to his lips to quiet them down. This works just about as well as you might expect. But it doesn’t matter too much. They’re quiet _enough_. They have two other teachers available for this first run-through. They’ll split the kids up into four groups and do some practice. According to Aang, they’ve already done these songs throughout the year, so all Zuko has to do is lead. He doesn’t even technically have to sing, but he should. Aang’s been clear about that, he really, really should. 

“Babby,” He starts reading off the list of his kids, sure it would have made sense to group them by class (and keep his class together), but this is also about getting to know some new schoolmates. 

One of the other teachers looks at him curiously. The sheet clearly says _Abby_. But this little girl, with her blonde bowl-cut and mischievous smile is one of his. His class has two Abbys, and this one’s last name starts with a ‘B’, so the kids--all on their own by the way--started calling her ‘Babby’. Zuko’s not one to discourage creativity, and she seems to like it, even prefer it, so he’d chosen to just go with it. But he doesn’t have time to explain all that. 

Babby runs up to him and lingers by his leg, and he calls the next few in a row, “Leaf, Abby, and Ver.”

Ver careens into him instead of walking over normally, and screeches as they collide, “Oh heck!”

She’s one of Ty Lee’s kids but he’s familiar with her energy level, it’s like the kid drinks espresso instead of milk in the morning. It’s cute, but he really needs to have a talk with her about why we don’t say things like ‘heck’. But that can wait just a minute. 

Leaf takes her sweet time coming to him, and for some reason takes the long way around the group of the other kids. When she comes to a stop he notices that she’s wearing tiny rainbow crocs and a t-shirt that reads _Fear the Lemurs_. He blames the parents. 

Abby, another one from _his_ class, comes and stands next to him as well. She’s wearing a small blue hat, and technically the kids aren’t allowed to wear hats inside but he’ll let it slide for now. 

“I don’t wanna sing right now I’m hungry,” Leaf says, to no one in particular, while looking down at her brightly colored shoes. 

“Oh worm,” Abby replies. 

Zuko doesn’t get it. _Oh worm?_ Is that a new thing now? Whatever, he has the musical to think about. Worms can wait. As long as no one is eating them. 

He finishes the role call with a few more names, he recognizes most of them. Ro, the little girl with short black hair, she’s in his class. And likes to ‘mom’ the other children when they’re being a handful. She’s also fiercely vegetarian, which Zuko has always found striking, given her young age. He remembers a particularly memorable classroom incident, when she said, in a completely calm voice “you know the chickies have to die for you to get the nuggies”. That had been an interesting day.

Then there’s Sam, another from Ty Lee’s class, who he’s heard many stories about in the teacher’s lounge. She’s the nap-time police--making sure the other kids are _really_ sleeping, and also on occasion likes to pretend to be a cat. Just for fun of course. She’s told Ty Lee that she knows that she isn’t really a cat, she just likes to think about why they do what they do. 

After he has his kids all near him, he tells them what the songs are going to be. They’ve worked hard on this selection, and he hopes it’ll go over well. Since Middlefield West is a public school, they’ve tried to make sure that the songs are non-denominational. 

[---

  1. Over the river and through the woods
  2. Frosty the snowman
  3. Hello to all the children of the world



\---]

The first is technically a Thanksgiving song, but this programme sort of smushes both the holidays together, so it gets a pass. The third one isn’t _really_ a holiday song, but the kids love it. And Aang _loves_ it, so it’s there. Zuko’s not even mad about it.

While doing a dry run through of ‘Over the river,’ he feels the weight of an arm resting on his left shoulder. It’s Jet. He always does this. Even some of the kids--the precocious ones--have learned, through his own reactions, that he prefers to be approached from the right. Because that way he can see the person coming, he can’t really see that well out of the left eye. Of course some of the kids couldn’t possibly notice that and he doesn’t hold it against them. They’re _kids_. But Jet? There’s no way he doesn’t notice. He does it on purpose. To surprise him. 

“What are you doing here? We don’t need you right now,” Zuko hisses, keeping his eye trained firmly on the kids. They’ve moved to an empty classroom together, and they’re singing over a tape recording in the back-ground. 

Jet turns the tape recording off and tells the kids they’re going to try something different. He turns to Zuko and there’s a look in his eye. Like he’s plotting something. This is Zuko’s number one pet peeve, people interfering in his teaching. _I hate you. I’ll kill you and make it look like an accident. I hate you so--_

“I don’t wanna be the bad guy here. But you know, you should be singing with them, that’ll help way more than the tape.” Jet says to him quietly, it’s the first time he’s ever said anything like that, quiet, and annoyingly, completely correct. 

“I don’t think. I mean--I can’t,” Zuko tries to carry on the hushed conversation while watching the kids out of the corner of his eye. He _definitely_ can't sing with Jet here right now.

If he’s not careful, while he’s got his eye on Jet, Bailey will lock himself in the cabinet again like he did a few months ago and they’ll have to call the janitor with all the special keys. He has to focus on the kids. He doesn’t have time for this. 

Jet raises an eyebrow at him, and he doesn’t even have to say it. Zuko knows what he means. _What are you so afraid of?_ He feels the color rising to cheeks, in the corner of his eye he sees Lucy pick up an eraser from one of the desks, look at it curiously, and then bite it. 

He goes over immediately, and puts out a hand, and she sheepishly puts the eraser, still wet, into it, “Lucy, why did you do that?” 

She shrugs. 

Jet uses the one second his back is turned to address the kids himself. They all know him, since he teachers art to all the kids. 

“How would you guys like me and Mr. Sugita to sing with you this time? Raise your hand if you want us to join you.” Jet asks them, in his ‘teacher’ voice, it’s softer than the voice he uses to talk to adults, less defensive. It makes Zuko almost want to like him. Almost. 

All the kids raise their hands, and any remotely _neutral_ feelings Zuko had for Jet go straight out the window. This is unfair. _You can’t play me using the kids._ Only one kid isn’t raising one hand, and that’s Amelia, who’s raising two. As well as swaying them from side to side. 

Jet explains to the kids that they’ll count down from ten. Zuko just looks at him. _Do you even know the song?_ Zuko has the lyrics printed out in his hand, and Aang’s drilled them for the kids for weeks in his regular classes. But Jet? He doesn’t seem the type to know this song off hand. It just doesn’t fit with the way Zuko sees him. 

But he does. Somehow, inexplicably, he knows. His voice, it’s nice. Not as deep or as raspy and Zuko’s. But _nice_ . Zuko doesn’t know how else to describe it. He’s so thrown by it that he doesn’t notice that he’s not singing. He should be. He’s supposed to be. Right. He locks golden brown eyes with dark ones. _You know what, this might as well happen_. 

“Over the river, and through the woods,

Oh, how the wind does blow…

It stings the toes and bites the nose,

As over the ground we go” 

The words come out of Zuko in time with Jet’s. The kids come into time with them. Their voices form a bright and squeaky overlay. One kid, Amy, is so loud she’s almost shouting, that’s okay. He can work with that. 

Jet stays for the rest of the practice. By the end of it, they’re better off than where they started. Zuko will give him this, he’s not a bad teacher. But Zuko can’t help but think he wants something out of this. Why’s he doing this? What does he want? Unless, maybe he’s just trying to help? _No. No fucking way._

“How do you even know this song?!” Zuko demands just as Jet's about to leave, after receiving a hero’s sendoff from the kids. Because of course he does. 

“If you wanna know personal shit you gotta at least buy me dinner first,” Jet smirks.

Great, back to square one. What’s his problem?! Why can’t he ever just have a normal conversation. 

It’s as if Jet can read his mind, “You gotta give something to get, Sugita. It’s the season of giving you know.” 

“I know that.” 

To be clear, he’s still watching the kids, he’s only left them alone for a minute for this. He hears the start of a raging debate over whether strawberry milk comes from pink cows. And who is or isn’t ‘dumb’ for thinking so. Ty Lee’s kids are notorious for getting into ‘discourse’ (as the teachers lovingly call it) over things like that, he’s heard stories in the teacher’s lounge, and he’s not letting the strawberry milk debate become another one. He has seconds before he has to go and break this up. 

“I didn’t think you were the type to even like holidays.” Zuko admits.

“Well, I was always on the naughty list,” Jet says it quietly, conspiratorially, and Zuko wishes _for once_ that the guy could hold himself back from stupid double meanings like that. He wishes it didn’t always have this effect on him. 

“I’m not surprised, you’re in Suki’s office more than any kid here.” Zuko shouldn’t be saying this, Suki’s the principal and told him in confidence, but he just can’t resist. 

Jet ignores the jibe, “You have to put things in perspective. Yeah. I hate the commercial part of the holidays. Everyone with even half a brain _should_. But here. I’ll give you a little something for free.”

Zuko expects something personal. Something that matters. He really, really should know better by now than to go around expecting things. 

Jet brushes something off of Zuko’s left shoulder, and looks him right in the eye, it’s a look that sends a shiver down his spine, “Hot chocolate isn't too bad. And I’ve always loved the snow.”

* * *

The next hurdle is casting. This really shouldn't be as hard as it is. These are eight year olds. Trying out to play fictional reindeer. The real problem? Everyone wants to be Rudolph. 

Zuko surveys the third graders. He's sorely tempted to make the quietest one, the one who's been the least aggressive in pursuit of the role, _Rudolph._ To set an example. But that would also look like he doesn't reward effort. He considers just giving it to Luna the first one who expressed interest. Or Jules, for being the only kid who didn't laugh when he said 'Rudolph the nose-red reindeer'.

He has the idea that everyone should come forward and explain what they think is most important about Rudolph's story. This is a mistake. In his defense, he teaches kindergarten. They all say variations of the same thing. And he learns nothing. 

Jet's painting in the background, since of course, his assigned rehearsal room for this is the art room. 

"You know what I think?" He says from behind the easel. 

_No. I don't want to know, either. Not that I'll get a choice._ Zuko sighs audibly. 

When Jet talks the kids listen, enraptured. They have no loyalty to Zuko. He's not even one of their regular teachers. To them, he teaches babies down in the Blue wing. Jet is their hero. 

"The real problem is the other reindeer. They have no real personality." Jet explains, "Like Prancer? Who is that guy?"

_That's good. That's really good._ Giving the other reindeer personalities will make them all good choices. Zuko's just mad he didn't come up with it himself. 

They spend the next several minutes coming up with personality traits for reindeer. Jet prompts and guides and Zuko writes them down on the board. It's just a little bit humiliating. It's like he's Jet's student-teacher. But he's grateful. After all. It's for the kids. 

After the parts are all sorted and the kids are all smiles and happy, Zuko feels like he should probably say something. Not _thank you._ But something between that and _fuck you._

But as soon as the kids are gone, Jet's back to his painting. He now has a splotch of lime green on his own face. Zuko can't stop looking at it. 

"What is this?!" Zuko looks at the painting, crossing his arms and grimacing, "What are you even showing?" 

"Open your eyes, rich boy. It's modern art." 

"Just fix your face." Zuko snaps. 

"What's wrong with my face?" Jet asks; he lingers on 'my', or maybe Zuko's imagining that. 

"Paint. You've got it all over." 

"Yeah, so?"

"That's not normal. You're gonna go out like that?" 

Jet shrugs, he takes two fingers and sweeps them across his palette, gathers paint, and swipes it across Zuko's neck, pausing at his pulse point, lingering at his collarbone. Gently, like a caress. Zuko's frozen still at the contact. He only regains the ability to speak when Jet isn't touching him. It's too much. It's way, way too much. 

"Are you completely insane?! Why would you do that?" If this wasn’t an institution of learning, Zuko would probably punch him, it’s just his gut reaction. 

"Because you never would. Let loose a little."

"Put your hands on me again and you're dead." Zuko snarls. 

Zuko's had enough of this. He heads off to the bathrooms to try and fix this mess. 

On his way out he hears Jet shouts after him, "Sugita, you're gonna go out like that?" 

_I hate that guy._

* * *

He’s still in a bad mood by the time he meets up with Aang after school. The other man notices, almost immediately. 

“Hey, we always head over to my place, would you be down to go over to yours instead?” Aang asks. 

It’s a strange request. Zuko doesn’t usually have people over. When he hangs out with Suki he goes over to her place. Same for Mai, Iroh, and now Aang. But there’s no real reason to say no, so he has to say yes. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s fine.” Zuko says. 

Unlike Aang, Zuko lives in an apartment. Also unlike Aang he doesn’t have a friendly doormat with flowers on it welcoming him home everyday. He doesn’t even have a working doorbell that plays out an elaborate song when it’s pressed. He has a knocker, and that’s about it. 

“Nice place,” Aang says genially, as he steps into Zuko’s living room, which is also Zuko’s kitchen, and his dining room. 

“It’s not much,” Zuko flips on the light, “Make yourself at home.” 

At least his walls aren’t bare. He can say that much. He’s kept all the art his kids have made over the years and pinned it up. So there’s lots of it. It cheers him up. 

Aang is just looking around, he looks a little perturbed. 

“What’s wrong? Just come out with it.” Zuko demands.

“Nothing, I just think this place could use some homey touches.” Aang looks at the box next to the sofa, “You just moved in right?” 

“I’ve lived here for four years.” 

“Oh. My bad. It’s nice. I like the drawings, I love the drawings actually--”

“Aang, it’s okay. I don’t really decorate. I know that.” Zuko assures him. 

“You know what we could do…” Aang grins, “Let’s head to the--”

“No.”

“Then after that we could hit the store next to it and--”

“Yeah I really think we shouldn’t…”

Aang puts his coat on again, “Come on. I’ll drive. Reindeer can wait. We’re going shopping.” 

In the end Zuko gets string lights, nice kitchen towels, a dark maroon rug with soft yellow stars and gold and black patterns, and, reluctantly, placemats with penguins on them. How he gets goaded into buying these things, he has no idea. But Aang seems to be fairly certain it will ‘turn that frown upside down’, so he just sort of, goes with it. Uncle is going to be so pleased next time he comes around here. This is exactly the kind of thing he’s been wanting Zuko to do for years. 

The best and worst part of the experience is definitely when Aang asks a sales associate for help and she assumes that they’re here _together._

“Are you a couple?” she asks pleasantly, “Looking for something to jazz up your first home?” 

“Yeah we are,” Aang smiles, “A couple of _besties_.” 

Zuko wants to kill himself. 

He’s still fuming about it in the car. To Aang’s utter dismay.

“So she made a mistake,” Aang says, “People make mistakes. She didn’t mean anything by it okay?” 

“It’s not that,” Zuko explains. 

“Then what is it?” 

“It bothers me...I’m not out. You know. At school. Parents already see me, and you know,” Zuko gestures vaguely towards his face, “I don’t want to stand out anymore than I have to. I don’t want people to write in saying they don’t want someone like me to teach their kids. This job, it’s all I have. It means _everything_ to me.” 

“You know that won’t happen right,” Aang says softly, “That’s not really how that works.” 

“It was when we were kids.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t that great when we were growing up. Not everywhere. We have to do what we can to make things better though. And you know. If we can’t be our true selves, who are we to tell the kids to be?” Aang ponders, then turns the key in the ignition, starting the car. 

He’s right. Zuko knows that he’s right.

“Wait. Are you--nevermind.” 

“I’m bisexual,” Aang says, the same way someone would state their age, or their height, or their name. 

_Oh. He is. He knows._

“Right. I didn’t know that.”

“Well now you do,” Aang says with a smile, “Let’s head back, I know exactly where I want to put up those string lights.” 

* * *

When Zuko wakes up the next day he finds he doesn’t hate the cute shit around his place, courtesy of Aang, as much as he thought he would. It’s as if Aang himself is still there, just vibing. Asking for snacks. Flipping through channels on Zuko’s TV and looking for Animal Planet. Just like he was last night. 

For the first time in a long time, he picks up the phone and calls Uncle to ask if he’d like to come over. Usually it’s the other way around. With Uncle calling him and insisting to spend time together. 

He’s a little astonished at how fast Uncle gets there after his call. It makes him feel a little bad. He should know better by now the holidays are a lonely season for him too. 

“You have redecorated,” Iroh notes approvingly. 

“It wasn’t really me,” Zuko admits. 

Iroh raises an eyebrow at him.

Zuko feels like he’s a kid when Uncle corners him like this, but he feels safe around his Uncle, and sometimes he doesn’t always watch what he’s saying, “It was this other guy. A work friend.”

_Oh my god that sounds stupid._

“I hope you made him good tea.” 

“It wasn’t a good time for tea.” 

“Zuko, how could a member of my own family say something so horrible? It is _always_ a good time for tea.” Uncle explains. 

“Not everyone likes tea!” Zuko says, then realizes that actually, Aang _does_ like tea. He actually specifically likes Uncle’s tea. He’s been to the tea shop. 

“You know him, actually,” Zuko sighs, “His name is Aang. He teaches with me.” 

Iroh considers, “I believe I do know him. He _does_ like tea.” 

“Would you drop it with the tea! I’m putting together a musical for the kids. We’re working together.”

“You are putting together a musical?” Iroh looks genuinely surprised. 

“Yeah. Opening night is a few weeks away. I was wondering, um, you know. If you’re not busy--” Zuko clears his throat, “You could come see it.”

He remembers his own elementary school functions. His father had never come to those. Neither had Uncle, usually, he had his own things to take care of back then. Uncle didn’t even live full-time in the same city, not until later. Back then it had just been his mother in the audience. With Azula in her lap. He remembers trying to focus on her, just on her face, when he was nervous about the crowd. But the memory is blurry now in his mind. It was so long ago. 

Zuko remembers his college events more clearly. Graduation. That was two years after he’d broken out of his father’s control. One year after he changed his name. ‘Sugita’ is his mother’s maiden name, and he had taken it with Iroh’s blessing, with repeated assurances (that Zuko didn’t ask for but received anyway), that no matter what Zuko’s last name was they would always be family. 

“I would love to come.” Iroh says, and he’s doing that thing again that Zuko finds embarrassing, his eyes are a bit watery. 

“Yeah, I’ll text you the details.” 

“Zuko, have pity on an old man.” Iroh sighs dramatically. 

_And I’m the angsty one._

“I taught you how to text! You can text! It’s not that hard. I’ll send you the address and the time.” 

“Or, we could simply go together,” Iroh suggests, “A nice dinner. Then the theater. Sounds lovely.”

“Uncle, a group of eight year olds singing out of tune hardly qualifies as theater.” 

“It is not the status of the ensemble that makes a production. It is their joy and feeling about the music.” Iroh explains. 

“I’ll tell Aang you said that, he’ll love that.” 

“Now, Zuko. I was wondering. Could you help an old man put his face in a book? My friend from the tea shop asked me if he could send me a friend request.” 

_Face in a book? Face in a...Facebook? Oh my god. This was going to be a long day._ But Zuko’s still running on a little serotonin high from the idea that Uncle is going to come see the kids. So he’s willing to make this sacrifice. Take one for the team. 

“Sure, Uncle. And it’s Facebook. Let me get my laptop.” 

* * *

After another two weeks of rehearsals, they’re back at Aang’s place. Sitting across from each other at his dining room table. This time it’s just the two of them. Katara’s upstairs in the study. Bumi’s fast asleep. They have the baby monitor down here just in case. That’s the kind of dad Aang is, even if Katara’s only a few feet away, he’s listening for his baby. 

“How do you usually spend the holidays?” Aang asks. 

It’s surprising, to Zuko, how long it’s taken for Aang to ask this question. He’s tried to keep the conversation light. School, teaching, the musical, the kids. He’s never asked about Zuko’s family. Where he goes when he takes leave every month, every third Friday. Zuko _knows_ the other teachers talk about it. Maybe Aang’s more perceptive than he looks. He’s waited exactly long enough, and gotten exactly as close as he needs to for Zuko to give him a real answer. 

“With my Uncle, he owns the tea shop on third and Marbury.” 

“Hey I like that place.” 

“What about you? I, uh, never hear you talk about your parents.” 

“Oh,” Aang says, “They passed away when I was a kid. I don’t really remember them. I grew up with, well I used to just call him Gyatso because everyone else did.” 

“He raised you?”

“Yeah. We used to travel a lot, never in one place for too long. You know being here in Middlefield with Katara’s the longest I’ve ever been in one place.” Aang laughs. 

_Interesting. A nomad._

“Was it just you then? Growing up?” 

“Yeah, just me. We traveled for a bit with a kid named Bumi. Then later we stayed with a family that had a kid named Kuzon. They were kind of like brothers to me. What about you?” 

“I have a sister.” Zuko pauses, wondering if he should say more, “She lives in Cleveland. That’s where I go, when I take leave sometimes, to see her.” 

“I think that’s really neat. I’ve been telling Katara we should go see Sokka. But something always comes up.” 

“Sokka?” Zuko’s never heard that name before. 

“Right, sorry, Sokka’s Katara’s brother.” Aang explains. 

There’s a silence for a minute. But not an awkward one. Silence with Aang is always companionable. Appa’s come to sit on Zuko’s feet. He can hear Bumi whimper in his sleep through the baby monitor. 

“You know what I haven’t done in a while? Snow angels.” Aang looks out the window wistfully.

“I’ve never done that.” 

“Okay then we definitely have to.” Aang gets to his feet, startling Appa, who growls at the interruption. 

“We don’t. We don’t need to. We’re adults. Besides, what about Bumi?” Zuko points out. 

“I’ll take the baby monitor with me and Katara’s upstairs.” 

“I still don’t see why we have to.” 

“We don’t _have_ to. But it would be fun. Trust me.”

Zuko remembers a particular conversation he had in therapy. 

‘ _You’re allowed to trust people.’_

_‘I was wrong about him. I trusted him!’_

_‘You feel like you could be wrong again.’_

_'Couldn't I?!'_

_'That's something you need to decide for yourself. In time. You will.'_

He’s gotten past this. He’s past this. He knows he wasn’t wrong to trust his father, it’s only natural for a kid to trust his father to protect him. Like Aang protects Bumi. It’s his father that was cruel and wrong. He can trust Aang, and do something with him, as a friend. 

“Fine.”

Zuko follows Aang outside onto the deck. It’s not even that cold. He was expecting much worse. Appa jumps outside after them and runs through the snow wagging his tail. Aang walks over to an untouched patch of snow in their yard and lies down in it. Zuko joins him a few feet to his left. The snow is cold and wet on his back. 

He watches Aang out of the corner of his eye, he’s just going at it, waving his arms and legs to make the shape of an angel in the snow. Aang’s every exhale forms a white cloud in the air. So does Zuko’s. He makes his angel as well. It’s not _not_ fun. The sensation of it, and looking up at the stars. It makes him want to talk to Aang and tell him things. Things he would normally just leave between the lines. He knows what people assume about him. He knows that people talk about his scar. 

“My father didn’t let us do stuff like this.” Zuko admits, “By the time I went to live with my Uncle I thought I was too old for it.” 

“I’ve met your Uncle a few times at the tea shop, he seems like a really nice guy.” 

“He is. He’s a really nice guy.” Zuko stops snow-angelling. 

“We usually get together on Christmas Eve, me, Katara, Suki and a few friends. You should come. Bring your Uncle too. We’d love to meet him.” 

“I wouldn’t want to--I mean if it’s just your friends.” 

“Zuko, you _are_ my friend.”

_Oh._ Now Zuko feels really, really stupid. 

“I’ll ask him,” Zuko says finally.

“You’re really lucky you still have him in your life you know.” Aang says, and his voice is still cheery, but now it’s a little forced. 

“Is Gyatso...is he not around anymore?” 

“He’s not. He died when I was nineteen. It makes me wish I hadn’t just run away like that. When I was twelve. I was gone for a whole six months. It’s six more months I coulda got with him.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

They're quiet for a moment. Zuko wishes he knew what to say. He's wished for it many times. For another day with mother. Another hour. Even another second. 

Aang gets up, and offers Zuko a hand, “Thanks for making snow angels with me, Zuko.”

Zuko takes his hand and is pulled to his feet, “Yeah, anytime.”

* * *

The weekend before the first show is the office holiday party. Traditionally, Zuko only goes for about twenty minutes, then dips. But this year he has _friends._ Aang and Katara will be there. I mean, it’s at _their_ house. He feels like for their sake, he can manage forty five minutes. Heck, maybe even an hour. 

It shouldn’t be that hard. After all, Suki will be there too, and they’ve been friends for a while. He feels bad about monopolizing her at work things though, her being the principal and all, but if the three of them monopolize her maybe that’s okay. Right? 

He doesn’t expect Jet to be there. Jet’s never attended these things before. He looks good, he’s combed his hair. His face looks smooth, like he shaved under an hour ago. He isn’t chewing on anything. He smells like cinnamon. _Seriously_ . _What happened?_

“Relax. Suki asked me to look presentable for the school board.” Jet once again does that thing where he reads Zuko’s mind. 

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were looking at me from across the room, even more than usual. It’s okay, I like the attention.”

Zuko wonders if he commits murder in front of the principal if that could make him lose his job. He wonders if he’s willing to risk it. 

“Let me guess. You don’t like the holidays.” Jet continues talking, as if they’re having a pleasant conversation, and Zuko isn’t an inch and a half away from losing his mind. 

“Don’t act like you care what I like.” 

“Rudolph was a good pick for the musical. You picked that right. I know it wasn’t Aang.”

“Yeah. I picked it.”

Jet takes a sip from his hot chocolate, they’re handing it out at the party, “Do you like my set boards? It took three days to paint the sleigh.” 

“They’re fine. Where’s Smellerbee?” 

“I don’t know where she went. She said she was going out for a smoke last time I talked to her.”

“Great. I’ll go talk to her,” Zuko takes this as his chance, and leaves Jet standing by himself at the side of the room, it’s what he deserves. 

He strides over to the door, and walks a whole block before he finds Smellerbee. He’s not sure what possessed him to go look for her, only that he was desperate to get away from Jet. And she’s the only other person at this party who can make Jet act like a person. You know, in case the guy follows him out here. Zuko wouldn’t put it past him. 

She’s sitting on the curb, and not smoking like Jet said she would be. 

“Uh, hey,” Zuko says, announcing himself from behind her. 

She turns her head, her eyes are red, she’s clearly been crying, “For a second I thought you were Jet.” 

“You don’t have to be rude.” Zuko sits down next to her on the curb, it feels like the thing to do. It’s snowing, just barely. She really shouldn’t be out here in the dark, all alone. 

“How’d you know I was out here?” 

“Jet said you went out for a smoke.” 

“Right. That’s what I told him. I actually quit a while ago. I just needed to get out.”

“I get that.” Zuko nods, he really does. 

She wipes at her eyes, and it smears her eyeliner, just a bit, “So what’s your story?”

“My...story…”

“There’s a party inside, with hot chocolate and marshmallows, a bunch of people you work with. And you’re out here in the cold talking to me. What’s your deal.” 

“I needed to get away from your brother.” 

“He’s not my brother.” 

“Sorry, I just thought. You have the same last name!” 

“We were adopted by the same family, well, I was. I wouldn’t let them--well not without him.” she stutters over the last words, as if she’s said too much. 

She has. So Jet’s an orphan then? Adopted into a family on Smellerbee’s good graces. 

“What’s your story?” Zuko asks, clearly there’s a reason she’s out here, “You don’t--you don’t have to tell me.”

“My birth parents died in a car accident on Christmas Eve. I’m only telling you that because I’m a little drunk right now. You can do us both a favor later and forget about it.” 

“They let you drink in there?” Zuko wonders aloud, before he’s had time to process the first thing she said. 

“I’m twenty two. Why wouldn't they?”

_Oh._ Now Zuko’s processing the first thing she said. _Oh god._

“I’m really sorry.” 

She shrugs, “It won’t bring them back.”

Zuko thinks about his mother, he knows what she means, “Yeah.”

“You can go back inside now. I’ll be in in a minute.” she says. It’s a dismissal, camaraderie over having a shitty time is over. 

Zuko gets it. 

“Hey, if you ever need--” he starts to say. 

“Nah. Save it,” she says, “It’s nice of you to offer. But I can take care of myself.”

He really hopes she can. And hopes that there's someone out there who makes it so that she doesn't have to. 

He thinks about Jet’s childhood for the first time as he goes back inside. Jet’s holidays. He wonders if Jet even remembers his parents. What they were like. If he thinks about them like Zuko thinks about his mother. If he ever feels as alone as Zuko does on cold winter nights. Maybe he does. He could. After all, he saw a side to Smellerbee today that he usually doesn’t see. _Maybe?_ Nah, Jet isn’t like that. He couldn’t be. 

He’s just gotten inside, and is dusting the snow off his boots when he sees Jet again. He has his coat in his hand, like he’s getting ready to leave. 

Zuko goes to stand next to him, for a reason he can’t quite explain. They’re standing on the boundary between the hallway and the living room. Most people at the party are in the den in the back. It’s quieter here. It’s then that Zuko notices there’s mistletoe hanging right above them. Oh, right. Aang’s idea of a joke. 

He looks at Jet, “She needs you.” 

“You think I don't know that?”

Jet smells like cinnamon. His hair looks so soft and it’s gleaming. Zuko knows how Jet’s mind works. They’re nearly alone here. There’s mistletoe above them. There’s no way he won’t go for it. Just kiss him straight on the mouth. It would be fast and sudden. He would. That’s just who he is. 

But he doesn’t. 

Jet leans towards him slowly, he brushes a lock of Zuko’s hair behind his ear and cups his cheek with his hand. But for some reason this invasion of personal space is different from the others. Jet actually hesitates for a second. It’s as if time slows. Zuko closes his eyes, and thinks he knows what’s going to happen. He’s okay with it. A part of him even wants it. But Jet only presses his lips against the scarred side of Zuko’s face, just underneath the broken skin. His fingertips are warm on Zuko’s face. It’s surprisingly tender. 

“Happy holidays, Sugita.” 

* * *

Zuko’s nervous the night before the big performance. The kids are ready. And most of them aren’t even nervous. He remembers their last rehearsal. It had gone well. All of them. Kindergarten, first grade, second grade and the third grade play. 

The kindergarteners have come a long way. Leaf does still bring up the strawberry milk debate now and again. But it’s mostly just the occasional whisper, and that one time she brought him a drawing of what he believed was supposed to be a cow, colored in pink as undeniable proof that pink cows existed and did indeed produce strawberry milk for the masses. 

Babby overcame her refusal to sing once she was allowed to transfer break-out groups and be with Halie. Zuko understands why. He sees the way Halie grabs the other girl’s hand, they’re friends, and he’s not sure which one exactly, but one of them is shy. Standing together is the only thing that helps. 

The first grade show had had a rocky start. But, as much as he hates to admit it, Jet’s really pulled through with motivating the kids and getting them in sync and _somewhat_ in tune. 

He’s really proud of the second grade set. It’s usually a ‘problem year’, one of those ‘in-between’ years where some of the kids are a lot more mature than some of the others. This group however works well together. They have a ringleader, Leaf’s older sister Momo, yes, Zuko confirmed that was in fact the girl’s real given name. She keeps them all in check. 

The third graders have come a long way too. If he’s honest, little Netty, who insisted on being cast as Santa Claus, is going to steal the show. Lou, who was once so shy, can belt out the title song with the best of ‘em. Their rendition of Rudolph isn't perfect. But it's got a lot of 'spunk and spirit' as Aang likes to say. 

He's by Aang's side at the side of the stage during the performance, coordinating changing scenes and moving groups of kids in and out. He can make out his Uncle, standing in the back of the auditorium talking with some of the kids' parents. 

The sets, he hates to admit, look beautiful. Although every time he looks at them he can't help but think of Jet and the way he had kissed him that night at the party. It just made no sense. Jet hadn’t been harsh or forward or jerkish. He had been _nice._ _For once_. It made Zuko’s head spin just thinking about it. 

His eyes are on stage now. On Ver, and Amy. Two little reindeer reciting their lines. It's the second to last scene. They're doing well. Really well. Then Lee, his Rudolph, looks at him. Zuko understands. He doesn't remember his line. 

Zuko remembers the one and only performance of his where his father had been there. His green belt test at the dojo. He had been tested on forms first. He had gone through the first set smoothly. But maybe it was the way his father was looking at him. Or maybe it was the way he wasn't looking at him. He forgot the forms. He didn't know what he was doing. Now that day's burned into the back of his mind like the splash of water is burned into the front of his face. But he can't think about that now. 

He looks at Aang, then back at the kids on-stage. They're a team on this. The two of them. Waiting in the wings. 

Aang grabs something from a shelf, it's an elf hat, he pulls it onto Zuko's head. 

"Bring him back here, let me talk to him. You can make it look like it was planned all along!" Aang says. 

Zuko looks at Lee. The kid looks like he's about to cry. 

Zuko goes out on stage, out under the bright light. The kids are all a little confused. But he can salvage this. He can make it okay. 

"There's been an...emergency...at Santa's workshop! Rudolph... You've got to, uh, come with me immediately." Zuko extends his hand. 

Lee takes Zuko's hand. He follows Zuko into the wings. Going straight to Aang. There's still going to be a lull on stage though. Zuko's not sure what can be done about that. 

That's when he sees Jet. He's on stage. He's got his damn ukelele. Zuko's heart nearly stops when he strums it. 

"While _they_ figure out the situation at Santa's workshop. I'll play you a little song. Come on kids. I say we go for it." 

_And of course. The kids still love Jet._ They don't know remotely what's going on. But they like Jet. They like songs. _This might as well happen._

In the corner of his eye, Zuko sees Aang comforting Lee and asking him if he's up for going back out. But the lion's share of his attention is on the kids on stage. On the art teacher who for some reason is making music. _Why does he have to do that?! He's ruining this. What does he think he's doing out there?!!!_

Inexplicably, Jet isn't looking straight ahead, at the audience. He's looking at Zuko. Not completely. Just a side glance. But it's doing things to him. Things that make it difficult to just be annoyed. And feel nothing else. Then Jet starts to sing. 

"Rockin' around the Christmas tree...

At the Christmas party hop

Mistletoe hung where you can see

Every couple tries to stop

Rockin' around the Christmas tree

Let the Christmas spirit ring

Later we'll have some pumpkin pie

And we'll do some caroling…" Jet sounds as good as ever. 

The twang of the instrument matches the tenor of his voice. It's fun and goofy and the kids are eating it up. He waves a hand for the kids to join. They do. Some of the parents in the audience too. Zuko cannot believe what he is watching. 

Jet looks directly at Zuko when he sings the next line, and Zuko's drinking it all in. The way he looks with the lights shining down on him. The way his voice carries across the hall. He hears echoes of the way Jet says his name in his head. _Sugita. Su-gi-ta._ He hates it. He's always hated the way Jet says it...flirty, and cocky and oh-so-sure of himself. The way he's looking now. Zuko hates to say it but he's impressed. He's furious but also _charmed._ He has no idea what to do with himself. He's building up to a boiling point. 

"You will get a sentimental feeling when you hear

Voices singing, let's be jolly," Jet strums loudly, then actually spins around. 

_Huh?_

He smirks at Zuko as he does it and lands the next beat hard, "DECK the halls with boughs of holly!" 

Zuko's heart is pounding. He vaguely registers the song going on. Jet looking at him. _Forget that guy. He's a jerk. Come on…_

Zuko can't forget. He can't forget _any_ of it. That's always been his problem. 

"Hey are you okay?" Aang turns to him, "You need to take Lee back on stage." 

_It's not about you._ Zuko looks at Jet. Still being an absolute crowd pleaser and clearly loving it. _It's not about you either, dude._ Strangely though, that's probably one of the few things he can agree on. 

"Hey," Zuko says to Lee, "You're gonna be great out there. We picked you to be Rudolph for a reason."

"What's that?" 

"We knew you would do your best. That's what the story's all about. Come on." 

Zuko adjusts the elf hat on his head and leads the kid out. The song is ending. He explains that Rudolph is back and takes Jet with him when he heads back stage. His heart is still going like crazy, but sometimes he can just work like that. On auto mode. Because no matter what's going on with him it _won't_ stop him from being a good teacher. 

"You're welcome," Jet says. 

"Yeah. Thank you." Zuko says, "I _was_ going to thank you for that."

"All things considered...I couldn't take that chance."

"My Uncle's here today," Zuko finds himself saying, probably because his head is spinning, "Do you have family?"

"Nah. Only her." Jet says, and Zuko knows exactly who he's talking about. 

"That's too bad." 

"Too bad! Yeah. I guess." Jet laughs, "You're funny." 

Aang joins the conversation practically out of nowhere, smoothly extracting the instrument out of Jet's hands, "Hey I think this is mine? I didn't know I let you borrow it…"

"It _did_ just save your show. The fact that I had it." 

Aang strums it gently, absentmindedly, "It's a bit out of tune. How long have you had this?"

"Try how long has it been missing." Zuko scoffs. 

"Six months." Aang supplies genially, handing it back, "Keep it. Zuko. Go meet with some of the parents in the auditorium. I'll wrap up the show here. Jet. I owe you one." 

"Trade me your parking spot." Jet asks immediately. 

"Not a chance. Nice try though!" Aang laughs, pulling Zuko away with him and down the stairs that lead off the stage and back into the viewing area. 

Zuko walks through the right most aisle. He sees a familiar group of parents. _His_ kindergartners' parents. Iroh's standing with them. He can hear bits of their conversation as they get closer to him. 

"So...which one's yours?" A lady with dark black hair asks Iroh, "Mine is the little reindeer in the back." 

_Ah._ Zuko thinks. This is awkward. She thinks Iroh's some kid's parent. Or grandparent more likely. That's--

"That one is mine," he hears his Uncle say, and he actually turns his head over his shoulder, a part of him expects to see Lu Ten standing there, right where Uncle is pointing. But there's no one there. It's _him._

"Oh," the lady looks embarrassed, and laughs, "Yours is a teacher." 

"Yes. He has a degree in early childhood education. This is his fourth year." Uncle sounds so proud, "Isn't it Zuko?" 

"It is," Zuko says, joining them at least, there's something in his eye, a warm feeling in his stomach as well--maybe he's coming down with something. 

"They grow up so fast," the lady smiles as the show ends. 

Uncle gives him a pointed look, and gives him a pat on the back that says _I'm proud of you_ , "Yes, they do." 

* * *

The next time Zuko sees Aang, it's New Years Eve. (He accepted the invitation and the request to bring family too). It's late. Uncle is there. So is Suki. Katara's chatting with Ty Lee. Aang is bouncing Bumi on his knee. Holding his head and neck to make sure he stays secure. It's sweet. 

It used to bother him, when he came around here. How sweet they were. Aang, Katara, and Bumi. A perfect little nuclear family. He felt a pang and an uncomfortable twist inside him just thinking about it. It wasn't something he could have. It wasn't something he was meant to have. But he didn't _quite_ feel like that anymore when he saw the three of them together. He almost felt like he was a part of it. 

He's sitting next to Suki on the sofa, when she tells him, "Nice job on the show." 

"What? Didn't think I had it in me?"

"No, you did...sometimes you just need a little push." 

"Good thing you're pushy." Zuko tests his luck. 

"Hey, you work for me," Suki says, and pauses to empty her drink, "You can't talk to me like that." 

"Trust Aang to invite the principal over to party." 

Just then, the phone rings. It's loud. The sound of it startles Bumi, who immediately starts crying out. Zuko watches as Katara practically launches herself towards Aang, taking the baby in her arms. 

The phone keeps ringing. Bumi keeps screaming. Katara's rocking him. Aang fiddles in his pocket and pulls out a rattle, then shakes it in an effort to calm his son. 

"Could you get that? It'll just be a second," Katara looks at Zuko apologetically. 

Sure, why not? Zuko can get that. It's just a phone. 

It's one of those old phones. With a cord and everything. Clunky and red. Zuko picks it up on the last ring and hears a voice. 

"Hello? Took you long enough. Okay. I'm at the airport," the voice says. 

"Uh, who is this? You've reached Aang and Katara."

"Who are you, dude? I'm her brother…" 

"I'm...a friend," Zuko says, looking over at the chaotic scene nearby where five adults are trying to calm a screaming baby. 

"Okay, I'll take it. Just tell my sister I won't be able to make it. And to maybe talk to me herself if she can stop making eyes at her husband for _two minutes_ to talk to her only brother...I mean come on...I'm at the airport all alone...I'm snowed in…" 

"Sorry about that," Zuko finds himself saying. 

"Hey man, it's not your fault there's a cold system moving up the eastern seaboard. Just let her know, okay? And tell her I love her." 

"Okay, sure. She doesn't mean to ignore you by the way, your nephew is um...he's having some issues right now."

"Poor kid. Probably misses his Uncle Sokka." 

_Sokka._ This guy's name is Sokka. 

"Anyway," Sokka says, "I have to go raid the airport gift shop for some candy and souvenirs. Just tell her what happened. Okay?"

"Okay. Happy New Year." Zuko says. He doesn't know why he says it, it just _feels_ right. _What the heck? I don't even know this person._

"Happy New Year."

Zuko puts the phone down. Bumi has quieted down now. He's being held by Iroh of all people. 

He approaches Katara, "That was your brother. He can't make it."

She looks sad, "I'll go call him back. I was really hoping we could all get together this year. Even dad and Bato got stuck." 

"Hey, there's always next year." Zuko says, out of a natural instinct to comfort her. 

She touches the necklace wound tightly around her throat and smiles softly, "Yeah, I guess there is." 

Zuko sits down between his Uncle and Aang. It reminds him of those Christmas Day dinners he spent sitting between his Uncle and Lu Ten. Aang's stories remind him of his cousin too. They're short and funny. Both wittier and cheekier than they have any right to be. Suki's falling asleep on Ty Lee's shoulder. 

Aang's telling Iroh about the musical. All of their plans. In the distance he hears Katara talking animatedly over the phone. Zuko thinks of New Years Eve with his mother. How lonely he felt on that night after she was gone. It hurts less now. With Aang by his side. With all of them. 

Maybe it's not the most wonderful time of the year. Maybe it never will be for him. But it's a much better time with friends. 

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to my beta and all-around wonderful friend abby (@acezukos)  
> also thanks to the crimily, sa6m and leaf, for being amazing cheerleaders while i was writing this fic, and allowing me to use their names in it
> 
> in terms of the continuity of the kindergarten series, this takes place after 'teachable moments' and somewhat right in the middle of my as-yet unpublished main kindergarten zuko/jet fic (but i hope you saw a little taste of the zukka to come)
> 
> drop me a line here if you liked this, or come talk to me at @itszukkatime on tumblr


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